The Unlikeliest Places
by Pint of Stella
Summary: Harry takes off on his own to find the missing Horcruxes, but encounters Draco Malfoy along the way. And sometimes, it is our enemies that show us what we must do. Post HBP. [Not Slash] Slightly AU.
1. A Special Guest

**Disclaimer:** I'm not JK Rowling and I don't own Harry Potter. (sigh) If only I had a genie to grant me three wishes.

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Dear Readers, 

This particular story takes place after Half-Blood Prince, so there are spoilers. There's also a bit of a weird prologue at the beginning – but it will become an important part of the story later on. But anyway, have fun reading and I hope you enjoy! (And remember to review!)

Pint of Stella.

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_"No Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."  
__- _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

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– CHAPTER ONE –

_A Special Guest_

On the northern shores of France there was a little old town.

A town that still remained standing - despite a long history of fires that once threatened to burn it to the ground.

It had large watermills, thatched cottages, and an ancient system of gullies built in the streets.

Indeed, this old town was one of the few wizarding villages left in France.

Constructed over the sheltering cliffs of Normandy, the town had a small harbour and a rocky beach that stretched undisturbed for miles and miles. To visitors, the townsfolk would say it was the most charming place in the world. None of them would ever dream of leaving.

Until there was one, most notable summer. In fact, it was the summer following a violent hurricane that had struck the neighbouring country of England. The usually charming weather of the small village grew inexplicably bitter. The air turned foggy, and the waters turned frigid. Rich green vines withered on the window sills, and the crops refused to grow.

The inhabitants of the village had no explanation for this strange phenomenon, and could only shrug or shake their heads.

Besides, they reasoned, it couldn't possibly last very long.

Unfortunately, after weeks and weeks the weather refused to improve, and if anything, grew worse. A thick fog now masked the coastline and no boats could be seen in the harbour. The schools of fish fled from the cold, and ice spread over the beach like the plague. Vegetable gardens had perished before mid-July, and the usual flower-decked windows remained empty and dark.

The townspeople slowly began to lose heart at the sight of their village changing before their eyes. One by one, they began to apparate to the warmer villages in the south. They would return, they agreed, the minute everything went back to normal and their lovely town was back in its original, lovely state.

So it was only a matter of time before the village grew unusually quiet and only a handful of cottages remained occupied.

One of which, was a modest wizarding hostel built along the footpath of the main street. In the past, this once grand house was handed down through generations of purebloods. But out of the blue, it had been purchased by an old witch one day. A squib, by the name of Madame Baille. She fixed up the building from its original condition in order to accommodate an assortment of visitors.

The hostel had grown popular over the years – but business of course, during this particular summer, wasn't going well at all.

However, it just so happened, that even in the town's miserable state of abandonment, there was one more guest staying at Madame Baille's.

And as far as Madame Baille was concerned, they showed no sign of leaving any time soon.

* * *

"Put some wood in the fireplace, would you?" 

Narcissa Malfoy glanced up in irritation at the voice. It was the old woman again. The repulsive_ squib_ that insisted on ordering her around whenever they were in the same room together. Since the very day she arrived at the hostel, they had been at each others throats.

Scowling dangerously, Narcissa stood from her comfortable seat at the window and flicked her wand once, instantly sending a heavy log into the flames.

The old squib turned at the sound of the crackling fire and nodded pointedly. "That'll do." She muttered. She hobbled from the room without further ado, the sound of her slippered feet shuffling down the hallway.

Narcissa glared hatefully after her. It was despicable enough that she was forced to stay here, of all places - a scruffy cottage in a pitiable fishing town - but to also withstand such terrible company was a nightmare. Swiftly, she turned back to her seat by the window, but froze mid-step.

Someone had already taken her place. A young, almond-haired witch was sitting rather contentedly, waving her wand over a pair of knitting needles which obediently sprang to life and attacked a tangle of yarn. By the look of her uniform, she must have been one of the kitchen maids.

At the thought, Narcissa's eyes narrowed. She moved forward to stand tall over the young girl, her dark silhouette blocking the light of the fireplace.

"You have taken my seat."

The knitting needles froze in midair, and the young witch looked up, questioningly.

_Imbecile, _Narcissa thought "Leave." She gestured stiffly in the direction in of the door.

The message came across well apparently, for the girl quickly gathered her needles and hurried anxiously from the room. She stole a nervous glance while she departed.

Narcissa smirked in satisfaction, seating herself back down in the seat with the grace of an aristocrat. After drawing a calming breath, she returned her attention to the window.

"I don't think that request of yours was very fair, Miss Black."

Narcissa's eyes snapped to the doorway, where Madame Baille stood, watching.

_Yes, Black,_ she thought. It was the false name she had given for herself. There would be less trouble, that way.

Narcissa sniffed defiantly. "That terrible girl should be sent home if she refuses to work."

Mme. Baille stepped forward without replying. Instead, she lifted a dry log from the wood pile and heaved it into the fire. She brushed her hands on her skirt, and then turned to face her guest.

"Perhaps. Yet, who are you, Miss Black, to decide who is or isn't employed in my own establishment?"

Narcissa glared. "I am a guest here. I will have my say."

"No, you won't." Mme. Baille stated simply.

In an instant, Narcissa was on her feet, wand raised.

Surprisingly, Madame Baille stood firm, hands at her hips. "You _will_ manage to show at least an ounce of respect for the workers here, Miss Black, or I will have you thrown out."

"Do not attempt it," Narcissa hissed; her wand arm trembled violently. "Because I assure you, you WILL regret it." Lowering her wand, she bent to gather up her heavy cloak and stalked quickly past the old witch. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she made her way down the staircase and into the Entrance Hall.

_How DARE she._ Narcissa thought. _That horrible, ungrateful, old HAG._

She wished she didn't have to stay here. She wished to return back to the manor.

If only there was somewhere else to hide.

There was a sudden, dull emotion that caught in her throat, though she couldn't place what it was. It felt alien and suffocating. Angrily, she threw open the double doors and marched out into the cold.

The weather that particular afternoon was dark, and held promise of rain. Light droplets of mist blew against her face, causing her to squint at her surroundings. Giving a great huff, she walked down the uneven steps of the garden, until she was able to reach out and lean over the white fence. She stood for a moment and frowned at the desolate walkway obscured by the fog. A narrow gully lay near by, towards the side of the garden path. She decided to get a better view of it, and peered curiously into the still, green water.

Her anger slowly receded, but the odd feeling still caught in her throat.

After a moment of silence, there was a great bird-like call overhead, as a gull soared past. Narcissa watched it disappear, flying west in the direction of the ocean.

Silently, she wondered how long it would be before Draco would come looking for her.

* * *

Harry lounged impatiently on the living room sofa, staring blankly at his reflection in the television set. It was nearly midnight at Number Four, Privet Drive, and the Dursleys had already fallen asleep. He was listening intently to the clock that ticked away in the kitchen, waiting. 

At the stroke of midnight, he would finally be allowed to leave.

Harry stole a glance at his trunk and invisibility cloak, packed and ready at his feet. His broomstick leant against the far wall, along with Hedwig's empty cage.

The clock ticked on.

Amid the silence, he noticed a soft scratching and a rustle of leaves among the hydrangea bushes outside. He frowned, and assumed the Order member that watching Number Four was changing shifts. They usually did, every hour or so.

The aurors had been there past month, keeping as much of an eye on him as they were for Death Eaters.

McGonagall's doing, no doubt.

They were waiting for his next move, he could tell. They expected him to disappear – or do something rash.

But in any case, Harry needed to find a way around them. He needed leave as quickly and indiscreetly as possible. If the aurors caught or ambushed him while he tried to leave tonight – well, he rather not think about it. Not to mention, the Weasleys, Hermione and Lupin were all expecting him at the Burrow tomorrow for his birthday lunch, and surely they planned to go through great lengths to keep him out of trouble.

Sighing, he leant back and closed his eyes. Everything was much more complicated these days. He couldn't be in peace.

Nowadays, even his own thoughts irritated him.

Harry anxiously gripped his wand.

The clock ticked on.

Already dressed in wizarding robes, Harry stood and began to pace. At the end of sixth year, he had promised Ron and Hermione he would take them along with him as he went looking for the missing Horcruxes. They were determined to stay with him no matter what. They wanted to support him. They wanted to protect him. They wanted to help him defeat the Dark Lord.

Harry stopped pacing, and frowned darkly.

_But couldn't they understand that he didn't want to lose them too?_

Harry reached down and took up his father's cloak. He stared for a moment at the silvery fabric before drawing it tightly around his shoulders.

A familiar hum broke the silence, and Harry looked up in time to see a muggle car drive by. Its headlights shone through the windows, casting eerie shadows along the walls.

In kitchen, the clock gave a delicate, muffled chime.

In the darkness of the living room, Harry smiled. He quickly pulled out his wand and pointed it at his heavy trunk.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_."

The old trunk hovered obediently. Giving it a small tap, it turned feather-light and Harry summoned his broomstick.

"_Incarcerous._" A series of ropes sprouted from his wand.

After binding his trunk and Hedwig's cage to the back of his Firebolt, and grasping it firmly in his hand, Harry stepped lightly out into the hallway. He surveyed the quiet, muggle home before him.

It was pity he had no time to wreak havoc amongst his lovely relatives. Truly.

A fleeting image of the Dursleys transformed into guppies and left swimming in the kitchen sink caused him to smirk. He would surely ask Fred and George for help, as soon as he got the chance.

Grinning as his imagination ran wild, Harry turned and headed for the doorway. But before he reached it, he felt a sudden rush of wind and a sharp bite on his left ear. He whirled around, nearly crying out in alarm. Fortunately it was only Hedwig, who hooted at him exasperatedly, clearly irritated by his jumpiness.

Harry took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"Hey Hedwig." He whispered quietly.

The owl clicked its beak in reply and perched herself on his outstretched arm.

"Look," Harry urgently continued. "You can't come with me. I need you to stay here for a while and be a distraction. Fly in and out of my bedroom window, just like everything's normal."

Hedwig clicked her beak angrily.

Harry sighed. "This has to work, Hedwig. I want the aurors to think I'm still sending letters from my room. We need to keep the Order oblivious as long as possible – which won't be long – but I'll need as much time as I can get."

Hedwig hooted again, still indignant.

"Just keep it up for one day, at least. Then you can fly out to find me."

The owl dug her talons into his arm in frustration, but took off nonetheless. She drifted through the house silently and flew out through the open window in the kitchen.

Harry stared after her sadly for a moment, but then turned his attention back to the doorway.

"_Silencio_," he muttered, tapping the locks and hinges on the door with his wand.

"_Alohomora_." The locks turned without any audible clicks and Harry smiled triumphantly.

He then lifted up his broomstick and tapped it with his wand. There was a rather pretty shower of sparks, and the broom handle vibrated.

The smile immediately disappeared from his face.

He was trying to cast a disillusionment charm. It was advanced magic, but he wouldn't be able to leave otherwise. His cloak alone wouldn't be enough to hide both himself and his trunk and broomstick...

Harry took another deep breath, trying to remember the time Moody had used the spell on him. He remembered the strange sensation of an egg being cracked over his head, and the surprise as he felt himself disappear. He concentrated hard on the memory and tapped his broomstick once more.

For a moment, the image of his Firebolt shifted before him, then suddenly vanished, disappearing against the background.

Harry let out a sigh of relief – thankful that his Firebolt hadn't been reduced to a pile of wood chips because of a botched spell. He drew the hood of the invisibility clock over his head, reached for the door knob, and shot one last look over his shoulder.

The house remained utterly still and dark. He could hear the clock ticking on in the kitchen and Dudley's impressive snoring from the bedroom upstairs.

"Well then," He sighed. "Happy Birthday, Harry."

Grasping the handle, he pulled the door open and slipped out onto the porch. It was a clear blue night with the moon half full.

_Wonderful quidditch weather,_ he thought cynically.

Harry turned and peered warily at the hydrangea bushes for any sign of movement.

Fortunately, there was nothing.

Satisfied with results, he tightened his father's cloak around himself and mounted his broom.

_Now what?_ A small voice asked in his head.

A cold rush of uncertainty suddenly hit him. He had left Privet Drive before, but that had been different. He had been furious. Anger had drove him that night, as well as Aunt Marge's accusing words echoing in his head. _But now?_

Harry gazed reluctantly at the quiet street ahead.

_"And now Harry,"_ he heard a familiar voice say, _"Let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."_

Tightening his hold on the Firebolt, Harry leaned forward and kicked off the ground.

At the sudden noise, the bushes rustled loudly and an auror stepped out, wand ready. She glanced at the empty porch in confusion, before reluctantly returning to her hiding place. Little did she know, her young charge was already high in clouds, racing an imaginary opponent all the way to London.


	2. Before the Throne

**Disclaimer:** These characters aren't mine and I - sadly enough - don't own Harry Potter. (sigh) And also part of my summary is credited to a wonderful quote by von Geothe.

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Dear Readers,

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Everybody's favourite Slytherin will be in this one. :P

Enjoy. ;)

Pint of Stella.

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– CHAPTER TWO –

_Before the Throne_

_July 1, 1997_

Severus Snape tried his best to keep his breathing steady and under control, while Voldemort watched him with a scrutinizing gaze. The army of Death Eaters standing around the pair looked on with curiosity, some craning their necks to get a better view. They wanted to know if the rumours were true; if Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts, was in fact, dead.

And murdered at the hand of Snape, no less.

After a moment, the Dark Lord nodded slightly from his seat at the forefront of the hall.

"Well then Severus, I am very pleased indeed."

Excited murmurs erupted throughout the room, and several Death Eaters cast astonished glances at Snape. From behind her mask, Bellatrix scowled.

The potions master bowed slightly. "Anything to serve my Lord."

Voldemort stood from his elevated throne, allowing his piercing red eyes to survey his group of followers. After sniffing the air, he acknowledged them. "Tonight, our legion has had a tremendous victory. However, it is very unfortunate that amidst this triumph, we must also address a failure."

The voices died down instantly, and silence reigned once again.

Voldemort smiled coldly. "Bring in Mr. Malfoy."

The massive doors at the side of the hall flew open, revealing a haggard-looking, ashen-faced boy, and two masked Death Eaters gripping his arms at either side. They forced him roughly into the hall, and brought him before the Dark Lord. In an instant, he fell to his knees.

"You BLOODY BACK-STABBER!" He bellowed at Snape. "You had to take all the glory for yourself, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU!"

"You should calm yourself, Draco." Replied Snape evenly. Though he was masked, Malfoy could easily imagine the man smirking at him.

"NO! You interfered! You took all the glory by killi– ARGH!" Suddenly, Draco fell to the ground, squirming, face contorted in pain. His screams echoed throughout the chamber, and the other Death Eaters cringed inwardly.

"Finite incantem." Voldemort hissed.

The curse was broken – and the young Slytherin lay still, gasping for air.

"I do not enjoy theatrics, Malfoy." The Dark Lord glared down at him, warningly rolling his wand between his fingers.

Draco looked up angrily, but said nothing. After a moment, he bowed his head, but continued determinedly, "I'm telling the truth. He barged in when I was about to kill Dumbledore. He saw what was happening and - "

"What I saw," interrupted Snape softly. "Was a boy unable to finish his task."

"How could you tell!" Cried Malfoy. "How could you tell if you just barged in and killed him! I was going to finish it! You INTERFERED!"

"The boy's lying." Shouted a voice from the crowd.

Voldemort's blood red eyes drifted from the horrified face of the young wizard to the watching Death Eaters.

"Come forward."

A Death Eater did so, stumbling slightly as he pushed through the bodies blocking his path.

"Speak, Amycus."

"I was there, my Lord." The man continued eagerly. "He couldn't do it. His arm was shaking out of control – he couldn't have aimed a proper Jelly-Legs jinx!"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"You're LYING!" Draco hollered.

Snape's still figure turned to him, narrowing his eyes in warning.

Unfortunately, Draco paid him no attention. "He's lying!" He shouted. "He's doesn't know what he saw! He didn't know what was happeni- " Once again Draco fell to the ground, though trying, with all his might, not to cry out this time. He bit down on his lip hard, tears stinging at his eyes as the Cruciatus curse surged through his body.

After several moments, Voldemort again ended the curse.

"Continue." The Dark Lord drawled.

Amycus smirked triumphantly. "The brat had more than enough time. When we arrived – he had the old bastard cornered, but he didn't do anything. Too much of a coward!" He spat the final word with glee, staring down at the Slytherin boy, as if daring him to deny it.

Voldemort turned his eyes back to the Draco, who clenched his jaw tightly under the piercing gaze.

"Is this true, Malfoy?"

Without hesitation, Draco shook his head.

Voldemort sneered. "Is that so?"

"It IS true!"

Another Death Eater pushed through the crowd, and fell reverently at his feet. "I was there as well! I SAW!" It was a woman's voice this time that spoke defiantly. "He had his wand raised but didn't dare mutter the spell. He's a traitor! He deserves to be KILLED!"

Murmurs erupted throughout the hall.

"Shut up! Shut UP!" Draco shouted. "I worked tirelessly for a BLOODY year to get all of you into the castle – and you couldn't do away with ONE BLOODY STUDENT! And yet you dare insult ME!"

The murmuring increased ten-fold. There were several cries of angry protests, and arguments broke out amongst the followers.

"Quiet."

Everyone fell silent and looked expectantly up at their master.

He stared back at them with a malicious glint in his eyes. "This is a very amusing indeed." He drawled. A sudden, evil smile formed on his lips. He turned to the silent figure, standing at his side.

"What say you, Severus?"

Draco looked up in shock, and turned to his former professor, who had his white mask turned towards him intently.

After a brief hesitation, the figure bowed deeply. "I admit," he began in a low voice, "that I had not allowed Malfoy much time after I had arrived, to fulfill his ... duties. I stepped forward and almost immediately performed the Killing Curse for the sole reason that several members of Dumbledore's Order were growing dangerously close to making it to the tower. Malfoy's plan… " Here, he sneered at the young wizard, "…was so – _effectively concealed_ – that even I were unaware of the of the situation until Potter's own friends came to beg for my help."

Draco's pulse quickened. He turned and stared at the ground anxiously while he awaited the Dark Lord's reply. It made no sense - was Snape trying to defend him?

For minutes, there was nothing but silence. Nothing - except an intense duel of the minds, between the Dark Lord and the potions master.

After a moment, Voldemort looked away and turned to the crowd of Death Eaters.

"It seems…" he began quietly. He turned to glare at Malfoy – wand twirling about in his hand. "It seems that the otherwise clear indication of whether or not you've failed your task has been – _conveniently _– botched by conflicting opinions within the ranks." He scowled. "As your punishment, you will be imprisoned the dungeons."

Inwardly, Draco gasped in relief. He didn't dare believe it, but somehow Snape had saved him; if only for the moment.

The crowd of Death Eaters were whispering amongst each other once again, their voices echoing throughout the hall. Amycus and Alecto, the ones who had spoken out defiantly against Malfoy turned their hateful glares at the boy.

_"Quiet."_

Voldemort's followers eagerly turned their attention back to the scene.

"Nott!" Their master barked authoritatively.

A large, hooded man stepped forward.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Nott – you will find Narcissa Malfoy, wherever she is hiding." He sneered at Draco. "And you will murder her."

In an instant, Draco was on his feet. Unfortunately, Snape already had his wand out, pointed threateningly at his former student. A cry of indignation was heard from Bellatrix among the crowd.

"One word, Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort sneered. "And I will see to it that Lucius dies with her."

The young Slytherin stood rigid, wearing an expression of complete and irrefutable rage. Even Snape eyed the boy cautiously, waiting to see how he would react.

However, Draco did nothing more than turn away, head hanging in defeat.

Voldemort gave a twisted, one-sided grin and gestured to Avery and Lestrange.

"Take him to the dungeons."

The Death Eaters instantly obeyed, and dragged Draco from the hall as angry tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

After the trio had departed, Voldemort signaled the dismissal of his followers from the meeting and pointed a finger at Snape, informing him to stay behind.

Speaking now loudly amongst themselves, Voldemort's servants departed, group by group. When they had gone, only Severus Snape remained, standing at Voldemort's side. The thick silence between them was impenetrable.

The Dark sat back on his throne and turned to his servant. "I have a mission of most importance for you, Severus."

Snape bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"But first – it involves a bit of a story." Voldemort paused, eyes glinting in amusement. "When Salazar Slytherin was very young, he was intrigued by his ability to communicate with a certain – creature – that was feared by the rest of his family. The serpent." He sneered. "A deadly, cunning animal, truly. There was one species, in particular, that greatly intrigued him for a better part of his childhood. Can you guess what it was?"

Snape remained silent. The formulas for various anti-venom serums played across his mind.

Voldemort continued. "The cobra. The group of deadly, venomous snakes that he idolized for their ferocity. During his youth, he became very good friends with an African prince, who understood just as much about the very creatures as he had. Together, they designed a shrine on the banks of the Red Sea to pay homage to this animal." The Dark Lord stood and began to pace around his follower.

"In my _own_ youth, I paid the fortress a brief visit. And, up until recently, I had forgotten that I'd left something behind." He paused and turned to Snape, who stood as still as ever; eyes fixed and analytical.

"Your task as leader, is to choose a group of sixteen of my followers – and guard the fortress until I arrive. I plan to make it a new stronghold for my army."

The potions master bowed. "It shall be done."

But inwardly, Snape's mind was racing. There was more to the story than what he was being told, as far as he could tell. Yet Voldemort knew he was prying, and blocked him out easily.

Both wizards stood in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Then suddenly, Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously, and he spoke out in a mere whisper. "I find it most endearing what you tried to pull tonight, Snape."

The potions master kept his expression forcefully blank, but his pulse tripled in panic.

Voldemort sneered. "If it weren't for your hand in Dumbledore's death, I would have punished you severely for lying to me."

Snape's mind reeled in shock. He was certain he had won earlier; the battle between of Legilimency and Occlumency. Without second thought, he doubled the walls around his mind.

"There is nothing wrong with your abilities as an Occlumens, Snape." Hissed the Dark Lord. "It is your words that are transparent. You were clearly attempting to tip the scales in Malfoy's favour. To perhaps, lessen the boy's punishment?"

Snape remained speechless, not daring to contradict him.

"Since you deem yourself capable of interfering with the boy's well-being, I will say this: fail you mission at the fortress, and young Mr. Malfoy will die. And surely, that is not what you meant to accomplish, correct?"

Voldemort stepped away sneering, and disapparated from the room without another word, leaving Snape standing alone in the empty hall.

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Thank you, reviewers! I love you, I love you, I love you. (curtseys) 


	3. Trivial Suspicions

**Disclaimer:** These characters aren't mine and I … don't own Harry Potter. Also, I used a quote in my summary by von Geothe.

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Dear Readers, 

I'm back! Oh my goodness…I haven't updated for… a month? (blushes furiously)  
Erm…ahem. Well,here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy.

And reviewers: I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!

- Pint of Stella

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– CHAPTER THREE –

_Trivial Suspicions _

When Harry arrived in Diagon Alley, the sun had already started to peek through the horizon. The shop windows were dark and empty, and several were even bordered up with planks of wood. The usual merriment of the town was now a distant memory. It was hard to accept; seeing the centre of wizarding London in such a state of dismay, and Harry felt his stomach twist uneasily.

Ducking into narrow alley, Harry dismounted his broom and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He had been oblivious to the cold while he was flying, but now that he was on the ground it came back full force and he shivered. Peering around the corner onto the main street, he found it empty save for a trio of bearded wizards making their way from Gringotts Bank. They were huffing loudly while they sped towards the Leaky Cauldron. On the farther side, an old, curly-haired witch wandered about, peering into the dark shop windows. She tapped loudly on the door of the Apothecary and when no one answered, she grunted and hobbled away.

The coast clear, Harry stepped out into the open.

_Now where would someone start?_ He wondered. He needed to find a clue. Any scrap of information about the remaining Horcruxes. But exactly _how_ was slightly beyond his grasp at the moment Harry frowned in thought at the empty shops before him. Side by side, they stood in various stages of neglect. Fallen Ministry papers littered the sidewalks. Reluctantly, he started to make his way down the street. At least, he was now off on his own and his friends were out of the line of fire.

But some good it would do if he didn't make any progress.

He sighed. True - he might not be as clever or analytical as Hermione, but he could still figure things out, couldn't he?

_You always had someone helping before, _mocked the voice in his head.

Harry snarled inwardly.

_I CAN do this_, he thought back. _I just need to THINK. _

He frowned as he went over his list of options. If all else failed, he convinced himself, he would abandon his plan and arrive at the Weasley's that afternoon just as he promised. No one would know a thing.

Clinging to that small bit of reassurance, he turned to the right. He was about make his way to the wizarding bank when a robed figure seemingly sprang out of no where and ran straight towards him.

In panic, Harry tried to step out of the way. His foot tread the hem of his cloak and he stumbled backwards and fell, crying out in alarm. The robed figure followed suit and tripped over Harry's outstretched foot, falling to the ground with a grunt.

Completely frazzled, Harry struggled to pick himself up and regain his balance. But suddenly his blood ran cold. The stranger he had run into had their wand out, pointed down at him. He froze in horror until he glanced up and realized who he had run into.

Standing there with his wand raised, was none other than Neville Longbottom.

"Who's there!" Demanded the other Gryffindor, eyes darting nervously around the alley.

Harry glanced down at himself and was surprised to find he was still invisible. The cloak was still covering most of him, except the very tips of his shoes; but Neville hadn't noticed that.

"Who's THERE!" Neville asked, louder this time.

"It's all right Neville! It's just me!" Harry whispered quickly.

Neville lowered his wand a bit, brow furrowing as he tried to place the voice.

"Harry?"

Berating himself for having failed at his disguise so quickly, Harry sighed and pulled off his cloak. "Yeah, it's me." He muttered, beginning to stuff it unceremoniously in the pocket of his robes.

Neville's eyes widened.

"Harry! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!"

"Ssshhh!" Harry waved his hands frantically. "Not so loud!" He paused before adding, "I don't want anyone to find out I'm here. You know, with Death Eaters around".

"Right. Sorry about that." Neville nodded solemnly. "Are you here to get your Apparition license then?"

Harry frowned. Going to the Ministry for testing hadn't crossed his mind for a while. But of course, he had promised Ron that they would take their Apparition exams together.

"Er, no, not really."

"I took my test yesterday." Neville continued. "And well…" He gestured hopelessly. "It didn't go that great, I suppose."

"Oh. Well you'll do better next time. I know it."

Neville smiled slightly at this. "Hope so. Well then, why exactly are you here so early?"

Harry grew distinctly pale and turned to eye the wide, double doors of Gringotts up ahead. A flock of witches hurried inside, chattering irritably about the cold and bickering amongst themselves. He racked his brain for an excuse that wouldn't sound suspicious.

"Harry?"

"I'm just here to get some money. That's all."

Neville's brow furrowed again in dissatisfaction, but he said nothing. For a minute or so, the two wizards stood in silence, watching early shoppers apparating into the street. They came in large groups, bunching close together, for fear of any attacks from Voldemort's supporters.

"Well, I suppose I better get going," Neville eventually piped up. "I'm off to meet my Great Uncle Algie in Egypt. I was planning to apparate there, but I guess now I'll have to travel by portkey and the line ups are…"

"Right." Harry smiled, absent-mindedly. "Have a great summer, Neville."

"Er, you too." Neville waved awkwardly and shuffled away.

Returning back to his task, Harry sauntered to the heavy doors of the wizarding bank and stepped inside. At the back of his mind he hoped Neville would have a safe summer.

* * *

"This is BLOODY RIDICULOUS!" 

"Alastor, please calm down."

"I am NOT calming down. This is NOT a time FOR CALM."

Kingsley Shacklebolt, official auror and appointed head secretary to the Other Minister, gave a frustrated sigh at his colleague. "He couldn't have gone far now, could he Alastor?" He attempted what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "We'll just set up a search party and he'll be back before lunch time."

Moody was not amused in the least. "Easier said than done, Kingsley," he snapped. "Now I want someone to be waiting for Potter at Hogwarts. A pair of aurors on alert in Hogsmeade, and Lupin on alert at the Burrow. Doge, Tonks, Jones, Diggle, Shacklebolt, we'll set up watch for him in Diagon Alley. I have a hunch Potter might want to make a stop at Gringotts."

"Honestly, Alastor," piped a stout witch. Her large, green spectacles were sliding half-way down her nose. "Do you think this is necessary?"

A sharp-looking wizard in the third row nodded and folded his arms.

"She has a point, Alastor. The boy just turned seventeen. He's probably just enjoying a nice firewhisky with his friends."

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the room.

"Are you forgetting _who_ Potter is?" Snarled Moody. "And he can hardly be with his friends; considering when they were contacted an hour ago they still believed he was with the Dursleys."

"He still can't have gone far." A tall, yellow-haired wizard spoke up. "He hasn't even gotten his Apparition license."

Moody's eye swivelled in irritation.

"There are Death Eater raids every two hours," the young wizard continued, "you honestly can't say this is a top priority, could you?"

"It IS a top priority, Sparks. And those raids are god damn impossible to predict without a spy on the other side. Trying to stop all of them is beyond the Order's abilities. Accept that." He snarled and faced the rest of the group. "And knowing _Potter's_ magical capabilities, I do not doubt that he would be able to apparate if he wanted to.But he wouldn't need to.Have you all forgotten thathe is the owner of the fastest broom in Europe?"

The aurors glanced uncertainly at each other.

"Potter needs to be _safe_." Barked Moody. "And he needs to be somewhere where we can watch him - in case he gets into trouble. Is that understood?"

The witches and wizards all nodded reluctantly. Sensing their anxiety, Kingsley hastily dismissed them.

As they departed, Mad-Eye Moody shook his head.

"Blundering idiots."

Kingsley's lips quirked. "There's really no need for name-calling, Alastor."

Moody opened his flask and took a deep swig. "Where did you get theoe bloody recruits anyways?" He raised an eyebrow at Shacklebolt, who was reviewing the long list of names.

"They simply wanted to join," he replied, shrugging. "Felt they could help out."

"All want to be bloody heroes, I suspect. You'd better make sure they can be trusted, Kingsley. I don't have time to deal with any more bad eggs."

He turned to face the silent figure sitting near the wall.

"Why are you _still_ here, Tonks?"

Looking ashen-faced, the witch looked up. She stood awkwardly and took a careful breath.

"I'm really sorry sir."

Moody scoffed.

"I should have," She looked desperately at Kingsley. "I should have been more careful watching over Harry's house. If I knew he had gotten away, I would have stopped…"

"DON'T weep over spilt potion, _Nymphandora_," interrupted Moody. "Get to Diagon Alley this instant."

The pink-haired witch opened her mouth as if to say more. After a brief hesitation, she nodded solemnly and pulled out her wand.

She apparated with a _pop_.

* * *

Harry emerged from Gringotts with a full bag of galleons tucked safely in his robes. He scanned the rest of the magical shopping district and found it only slightly more crowded than before. There were still no aurors or Order members around, but he wouldn't take any chances. Readily, he swung on the invisibility cloak. 

It was then that he heard a hoot overhead and looked up. A large, brown barn owl coasted towards him and landed on a metal railing near by. Hesitating slightly, Harry approached the bird. Upon further inspection, he noticed it was a Ministry Owl.

The owl hooted again, and cocked its head to the side. Sensing someone approaching, it extended his leg where an official-looking document was tied.

Harry reached out, removed the parchment, and quickly slipped it under the invisibility cloak. The owl clicked its beak and took off, disappearing over the roof tops.

After cautiously glancing about to deduce whether anyone else had witnessed the exchange, Harry made his way to the alley beside Gringotts. Heleaned against the brick wall, next to a row of dustbins. He unrolled the Ministry scroll and scanned through the message.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am pleased to inform you that as of the thirty-first of July, you are legally entitled to the inheritance of the possessions assigned by the late Mr. Sirius Black (1960 -1996), as according to the written will of the deceased. For a full account of the assets appropriated to you, the beneficiary, present this letter to the front desk in the Department of Dispensation. Thank you. _

_Sincerely,_

_Esther Vogt_

_Department of Dispensation, Third Floor_

_Ministry of Magic_

_London ENGLAND_

As he finished reading, Harry felt a wave of apprehension. True, Sirius had left everything to him; Dumbledore had told him as much during the previous summer. Everything from Sirius's vault in Gringotts, to the despicable portrait of his mother in Grimmauld Place. But he didn't know what to do with any of it.

He certainly didn't WANT any of it.

What could he possibly do with his Sirius' house, for instance?Sit by the fireplace and wait for Voldemort?

A tiny voice was nagging at the back of his mind.

And honestly, he would hate going back. There would be too many memories.

_Sirius locked up, Dumbledore at the Order meetings, summer with Ron and Hermione…_

_I can't go back, _Harry scolded himself. _I CAN'T._

Though as much a he tried to convince himself that he didn't need Grimmauld Place, he knew he was wrong. And it was all because of something Hermione had taught him over the years.

_Research._

And in Number Twelve Grimmauld place, there certainly was a large library. One filled with many Dark Arts books, in fact. If there was anything written about Horcruxes – it would have to be in there, and he knew it.

Harry sighed heavily. _Well, here goes,_ he thought. Swiftly, he mounted his broom.

_Time to do some homework._

* * *

_Should I continue?_


	4. The Drawing Room

Dear Readers,

I read some interesting theories out there about the mysterious "R.A.B." and I decided to add some of it to the story, for the sake of experimenting, you know.  
Well, here's another chapter. Let me know what you think!

Pint of Stella

P.S. Special thanks all my reviewers (I LOVE you guys!) for inspiring me to get off my butt and update. I hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

– CHAPTER FOUR –

_The Drawing Room_

"_There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; a heavy gold locket that none of them could open; a number of ancient seals; and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius grandfather for 'services to the Ministry'…"_

_- _Chapter 6, Order of the Phoenix

Harry's fingers trailed along the rows of books, occasionally pausing to rub the dust off their spines.

_Dangerous Beasts And Where to Find Them: First Edition…The Goblin Revolution…Rules for Dangerous Alchemy…One Hundred Poisonous Concoctions and Antidotes…Fight and Flight: The Crucial Guide to Vampires…Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy…The Procedures of Potion-making…Antiquity and the Dark Arts…The Corruption and the Decline of the Giants…_

Hand pausing, he reached and pulled down a mahogany bound book, reading its title thoughtfully.

_Hogwarts: The Founding of the Great Wizarding Academy._

He flipped it open. There was a simple illustration of a grand hall; empty, save for two wizards and two witches, gazing across the floor.

He flipped casually to a chapter further in the book. There was a drawing of the school grounds with a short paragraph concerning the Forbidden forest and its dangerous creatures. Most of them, it stated, were attracted to the powerful magic from the castle.

Sighing, Harry shut the book and returned it to the shelf. He glanced at the next title in line.

_The Principles of Defence and Powerful Enchantments._

Harry raised an eyebrow, and brought the book with him to an armchair near the window. He sat, and opened it cautiously lest the pages scream or burn his eyes out. When neither occurred, he turned eagerly to the first chapter.

There was a picture of a witch dressed in elaborate garb, sweeping her hands about in quick gestures.

_Wandless magic_, he thought.

Intrigued, Harry squinted at the fading text.

He sat there for quite some time, flipping through the pages and staring in bewilderment at the foreign incantations.

He was so concentrated, that by the time he realized he was no longer alone, voices were audible just outside the door.

_They've found me._

He set the book down slowly, and reached for his wand.

His trunk, broomstick and invisibility cloak were lying near the door; their disillusionment charm lifted. Cursing mentally, he muttered the spell, disguising them once again. The cloak he quickly summoned and tossed over his head. He moved quickly from the chair and dove behind one of the taller bookshelves. Mind racing, he forced himself to remain still and tried not to breath too loudly.

_But it won't be any use,_ he thought in exasperation. The Order had caught him. And because of Moody's magical eye, they must know exactly where he was hiding.

Harry caught himself staring at the door in desperation.

He could still run. If he could get out the window before they arrived he might still have a chance to escape…

"Amycus hurry up! You're slowing everyone down."

He dashed back behind the bookshelves he raised his wand at the window.

"Shut up and show us where that damned room is!"

"Where is it?"

Harry faltered. _What?_

"It's right here."

Harry couldn't tell who it was, but that definitely did not sound like Moody…

"Dolohov get your wand out."

"Amycus hurry!"

Harry's blood ran cold.

_Oh bloody Merlin._

So it _wasn't_ the Order coming to look for him, after all.

At the moment, he honestly wasn't sure whether to be horrified or relieved.

There was a sound of rustling, and Harry caught the sound of someone hurrying to catch up. They stopped abruptly, and the door of the drawing room burst open.

Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward and surveyed the room. A malicious grin appeared across her face while her while her dark eyes rested on the Black family tapestry.

From behind her stepped Rudolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov and the short wizard who Harry placed as Amycus. All four of them scrutinized the room while Harry shrunk as far as he could into the ground. Invisibility cloak or not, he prayed they wouldn't detect him or his disillusioned possessions on the floor.

Bellatrix moved forward and traced her long fingers across the shelves. The rows of glinting, dark arts objects seemed to be reflected in her eyes as she smiled. While she studied a tarnished silver box, Dolohov moved to inspect the writing desk; the same one which Harry remembered used to contain a boggart. Following their example, Amycus approached the mantelpiece to inspect a display of gold daggers.

Rudolphus Lestrange stood by the door and watched them silently.

_Why are they HERE?_ Harry thought frantically. His hand grew sweaty as he gripped his wand, mentally rehearsing all the hexes he could think of. He could try to apparate, but he didn't know how effective it would be - and he wasn't keen on getting himself splinched by accident.

Bellatrix picked up the silver snuffbox, which immediately sprang to life and nearly bit her finger. In surprise, Harry watched as she burst into laughter and tossed it out of the way.

"Anything yet?"

The other two wizards scouring the room shook their heads.

Lestrange sniffed impatiently at the door.

_So they're looking for something_, Harry thought.

_But why here?_

There was an abrupt sizzle and then a zap, and Amycus cried out in pain.

"DON'T STEP IN FRONT OF THE CLOCK!" Bellatrix ordered.

Cursing, the squat wizard stepped away from the cursed grandfather clock and made his way to where Dolohov was now rummaging through the glass-fronted cabinets. The three Death Eaters continued like this for quite some time, occasionally lifting up objects to scrutinize in the light.

Slowly, Harry stood up. He really only knew one nonverbal spell. He could either use it now, or wait quietly until everyone had left.

Or, he thought cynically, until they realized he was here.

He raised his wand.

"I've found it!"

Harry hesitated and watched in surprise as Bellatrix snatched an object up from the mantelpiece. She shrieked with laughter and clutched it to her chest.

The three other Death Eaters immediately rushed to her side.

Curious, Harry looked on with his wand still poised in the air.

_What? What did she find?_

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Bellatrix cooed. "So very pretty."

"Are you sure that's it?" Rudolphus asked in a gruff voice.

"Of course I'm sure." Bellatrix snapped. "How can I not be? Look." She thrust it into the air, and the light from the windows shone brightly against its surface.

When Harry realized what it was, he felt his heart leap to his throat. His wand hand faltered.

_No_, he thought inwardly.

_NO._

_NO!_

_It CAN'T be._

A heavy golden locket dangled from Bellatrix's fingers, glinting beautifully. "See?" She sneered. "Poor Regulus must have forgotten it here. I remember he always had a habit of losing his things back in Hogwarts." She laughed and unclipped the latch, fastening it around her neck.

"Then let's go." Dolohov barked. "Snape will be expecting us."

_Snape._

It was as if someone had muttered a reviving charm. The blood instantly rushed through Harry's limbs. The name of Dumbledore's murderer ignited a strange feeling inside him. Before he could think twice, he stepped out from behind the bookcase.

"LEVICORPUS!" He cried inwardly.

"AH!" Bellatrix shrieked as she was flung upside down. Her partners reacted immediately, sending explosions of light to all corners of the room.

Harry leaped out of the way and darted towards the place where his trunk and Firebolt lay. He crouched down as he felt around for the handle of his broom, avoiding the torrent of curses rebounding off the walls.

Eventually, he grasped the handle and sprinted towards the door. He swung the broom a bit too far however, and knocked over a black vase to the floor. It shattered in an instant, its glass pieces scattering everywhere.

The curses from the three wizards ceased, and Harry stopped in his tracks. He had made it just before the door, but didn't dare go any further. The four Death Eaters turned to the doorway, wands raised. Bellatrix had already gotten herself properly upright, and her eyes were sparkling spitefully.

They may not know who he was - but his opponents now knew exactly where he was standing.

He had no choice but to apparate.

Trembling, he raised his wand. _Destination. Determination. Deliberation._

"INCARCEROUS!"

"Protego!"

Harry blocked off the spell as he leaped out of the way. _No time to apparate then. _He stumbled out of the room, and ran down the length of the corridor without pausing to think. Spells shot past him, destroying the gas lamps and portraits mounted along the wall.

As he reached the staircase, he heard a flurry of footsteps sprinting after him. Having no time to waste, he clutched the handle of his Firebolt and kicked off the top stair. The broom shot in the air as he struggled to maintain his balance. Bellatrix shrieked an incantation as she spied his shoes, no longer hidden by the invisibility cloak. She set a jet of green light hurtling in his direction.

Panicking, he forced the broom out of the way.

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

"STUPEFY!"

"CRUCIO!"

Harry hurtled downwards, out of range. The three curses missed, and he sent the broom speeding towards the Entrance Hall.

"DIFFINDO!"

Dolohov's spell clipped the end of the Firebolt and sent him careening to the right. Harry cried out in surprise as he was flung off his broom.

"Get him!" Bellatrix shrieked.

Harry got up unsteadily, and felt a pain shoot through his knee. Tangled in his cloak, he whirled around and glimpsed the four Death Eaters running quickly down the staircase.

"Accio Firebolt!" He called. The broomstick spun towards him and he caught it in his hand before continuing towards the doorway.

"DIFFINDO!"

Harry ducked as Dolohov's spell blasted over his head.

"Reducto! Alohomora!" Grasping the handle, he pried the door open. Sunlight spilled into the entrance hall, and Harry staggered out onto the street. As soon as he reached the pavement, he pulled his cloak tightly around himself and mounted his broom. He kicked off the ground once more and the Firebolt launched into the air. The cool wind felt relieving as it rushed past.

_Perhaps Hermione wasn't right about research after all,_ thought Harry cynically.

He urged the broom higher and higher away from Grimmauld Place.

Unfortunately, he didn't get as far as he expected.

"POTTER!"

Startled, Harry glanced back to the front steps of Grimmauld Place and felt his heart catch in his throat for the second time that day.

Standing on the sidewalk were none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphandora Tonks, and Alastor Moody - who was eyeing him reproachfully.

_Oh no. NO. Not THEM…_

"GET DOWN HERE POTTER!" Moody barked hoarsely.

Reluctantly, as if tearing his heart from his chest, Harry slowed the Firebolt to a halt. A terrible, sinking feeling spread at the pit of his stomach.

So his plan hadn't succeeded after all.

"Hurry up, Potter!"

Tightly gripping the handle, he guided his Firebolt around in a loop and hovered back towards the sidewalk.

_Of course the Order would've guessed I might have come here._ His plan had been so predictable. So terribly transparent.

Then at that instant, he caught a glimpse of movement below.

"LOOK OUT!"

Moody's eye whirled around as the door of Grimmauld Place burst open. There was an explosion of sparks and within seconds, the aurors found themselves in a furious battle against four of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

"Reducto!"

Tonks sprang away from the Lestrange's curse and threw a quick stunner in response.

_They're out numbered, _thought Harry frantically. _They're out numbered by one. I have to stay and help!_

He took out his wand.

"Incarcerous!" yelled Moody.

He hesitated.

Dolohov leaped out the way and sent a powerful hex towards Shacklebolt.

Once more, Harry fought with his conscience.

He HAD to stay. But at the same time, he could not.

_Not this time, anyway, _he thought bitterly. He might never get another chance…

He put away his wand.

One of Bellatrix's curses missed and exploded on the pavement.

Shutting his eyes, Harry gripped his Firebolt and turned away from the fight. He heard Moody shouting after him.

Harry hated himself for doing it, but he didn't turn back. Instead, he urged the broom to go faster.

_I need to go somewhere. A place where the Order can't find me_, he thought frantically.

_Anywhere._

Little did Harry know, that at that moment, Shacklebolt threw a powerful shielding charm and Tonks disapparated to the front steps of the Burrow.

Ron and Hermione were waiting impatiently for her at the door.

* * *

_Phew. That took a while to write. (stretches) So…Good? Bad? Atrocious? Remember to review! _


	5. Neville's Clue

I'm back! Yes, really. I just…felt rather uninspired for a while with this story, and I know that is no excuse. (looks away in shame) But just recently, I've picked up on it. Got my muse back. So here is another chapter (finally!) I hope you like it. Enjoy.

- Pint of Stella

Disclaimer: I'm not doing this for money.

* * *

– CHAPTER FIVE –

_Neville's Clue_

"_Next."_

Neville took one step forward as the tall witch in front of him walked briskly towards the counter. As he suspected, the lines for a portkey were painfully long, although it was still early with more than three hours to spare until noon.

The Department of International Portkeys was located in a very large (and abandoned) muggle train station across from the main ministry building. Though it was now refurbished in order to better suit its magical clientele, it still looked very much like an old train station with its large doorways, its row of ticket booths, and the constant hustle and bustle of people coming and going. But in the place of trains, there were umbrellas, hats, shoes, socks, tin cans, newspapers, coffee mugs (and any other muggle item you can imagine) enchanted and sold as portkeys to send someone anywhere from Piccadilly to Paraguay.

Unfortunately with Voldemort on the rise, there were many families eager to leave wizarding Britain, and judging by the length of the queue, Neville decided the Dark Lord's aim to encourage fear among the wizarding world was working.

After a minute, the tall witch stepped away from the counter with an old, leather purse in hand. She disappeared suddenly in a swirl of light.

"_Next."_

Neville stepped forward. The ministry witch peered down at him, drumming her long nails expectantly. A massive book, the pages yellowed and dog-eared, floated in the air behind her. It was open to a lengthy list of names scrawled in ink. The date, _July 31st_, was written in heavy, black letters at the top.

"I need a portkey, please."

The old witch sniffed. "May I have your wand?"

Neville quickly rummaged through his robes and found it stashed away in his left pocket. It was made of bright cherry wood and unicorn hair, and Neville was rather fond of it. His grandmother on the other hand thought it was filled of dark magic, since it was one of the last ones Mr. Ollivander sold before his disappearance. But then again, his grandmother always looked on the bad side of things when it came to him – and his parents.

With a bored look, the ministry witch flicked the wand once and sent a shower of golden sparks into the air. Satisfied, she handed it back.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"And where are you taking the Portkey?"

"Rosetta. In Egypt."

"When will you be returning?"

Neville hesitated, before shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe at the end of August."

The witch sniffed and pushed up her glasses. "The fee is 14 galleons."

Neville produced a small black pouch and dropped it into her outstretched hand. She weighed the gold in her fingers, before she nodded and handed him a bright blue quill.

"Please sign here."

The large book drifted forward, within reach. He grasped the quill that she handed to him and carefully wrote 'N. Longbottom' after the long column of names.

After he had finished, the witch handed him an old bowler cap, black and frayed around the edges. "You may take this, and step away from the counter."

Neville began to reach for the wide felt brim, when there was sudden outburst of voices at the far end of the line. He didn't give it much thought until he heard, among the noise, a familiar voice shouting his name.

"Neville!"

Neville turned and spotted black-robed figure was pushing through the crowd. Feeling quite startled, Neville did not call out a reply.

"Neville!"

All of a sudden, the crowd parted somewhat and Neville was shocked to find Harry Potter, looking anxious and utterly slapdashed, sprinting towards him. His trunk and bird cage were still faithfully attached to the handle of his broom, which he was swinging along haphazardly.

"H-Harry?"

"Neville wait!"

The queue of witches and wizards began to protest angrily as Harry pushed past them in line. Of course, none of them had been able to glimpse the scar on his forehead. He ran until reached his friend, who was eyeing him with a completely perplexed expression.

The ministry witch at the counter rose immediately and scowled.

"Please go to the back of the line if you want to register young man, or I will call the ministry aurors!"

But Harry simply ignored her and began speaking to Neville at once.

"You have to help me," he hissed quietly. "I have to leave. I have to get out of here. Ron, Hermione and the entire Order are looking for me and I can't let them find me or else they'll force me to back to the Burrow!"

The words tumbled from Harry's mouth at an alarming rate, and Neville hardly made any sense of it. "Harry! W-what are you talking about!"

Harry thought desperately for a way to explain. "Ron and Hermione. The Order. They don't want me going after, after _him, _without them. They want to protect me or something, but they're going to get themselves in trouble too, I just know it. I have to do this alone, Neville! I have to get away from everyone …and I tried…I was trying to run this morning but they found me and now…"

"Excuse me, young man! Please go to the BACK OF THE LINE," barked the ministry witch.

Neville stared in shock. "You're running away from_ Ron _and_ Hermione_!"

Harry let a sigh of exasperation. "I know it sounds like practically the stupidest thing on the planet, but I did it for a good cause. I wanted them to be safe…I want all my friends to be safe, I wouldn't involve you in this whole mess either, but you're the only one who can help me…"

"Young man! Are you paying any attention!"

Neville was shaking his head in disbelief. "Me? You've gone bloody mad, Harry, bloody mad –"

"Please Neville! You're meeting your uncle, that's what you said, wasn't it? Could I just stay with both of you for a really short while … just until I figure out where I could go, then I'll never bother you again. I know it's a lot to ask but I promise to pay you back somehow, as soon as I've got the chance … I just have to go somewhere no one will think to look…"

"I-I dunno Harry. If the entire Order is looking for you…"

"They can't protect me, but they don't understand that! They should start worrying about Hogwarts or something, really. About keeping the school open. Or protecting Muggleborns. But they're NOT. Please Neville! The order will catch up soon; I think Moody might've guessed which way I went …"

"But Harry…"

"Please Neville!"

Neville's expression grew strange but he said nothing.

With terrible sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry realized he was not going to help him.

"YOUNG MAN! GET TO THE BACK OF THE LINE THIS INSTANT OR I WILL ALERT THE MINISTRY AURORS–"

"Neville_, please_."

With a sudden resolve, Neville reached into his robes and produced a second bag of coins. Quickly, he counted out fourteen large galleons, and slapped them onto the counter. "For a second fare," he muttered hastily to the open-mouthed witch, and after grabbing Harry's arm he snatched the old bowler cap lying forgotten on the counter.

For a second nothing happened, but then, in a remarkable whirl of colour and light, the two boys disappeared.

* * *

It turned rainy that evening. The slight pitter-patter of rain drops against the windows echoed around the Burrow, but could not compete with the rising voices in the downstairs living room. 

"He's a bloody idiot!"

"Ron, please. I'm upset with him too, but we've been over this a billion times. Moody's working his hardest. He's got the whole Order out searching for him, and Professor McGonagall is keeping watch at Hogwarts. But don't call him an idiot. For all we know, Voldemort could have taken control over his mind."

"Sure. Oh look! Voldemort's taking over my thoughts! I think I'll torture my family and jump off a bridge!"

"Please Ron! That's not funny!"

"I'm not joking Hermione. He didn't want us to come along with him, so he left. End of story. He _is_ a bloody idiot."

"He's not! If he ran away he's doing it for us. He doesn't want to put us in danger, and now he's alone. You should be thankful for having such a loyal friend!"

"A stubborn prat, more like."

"Ron!"

"It's just as good that he took off. He'll get himself into trouble, and then he'll have _no one_ there to help him."

"He won't…he won't get himself into trouble. The Order _will _find him. Just you see!"

"They'll find his bloody corpse, that's what."

"How could you even say that!"

"Because I'm right!"

"Would you two please just bugger off!"

Ginny slammed her book shut. Hermione and Ron gave her surprised looks, before turning away looking slightly ashamed.

"You've been arguing since Tonks left! Honestly!" Ginny snapped. "Maybe this is exactly why Harry didn't want you coming along with him! He couldn't possibly accomplish anything with the two of you fighting all the time!" She stood up, scowling. "If I were Harry, I would _dread _having to take you two with me. You would be absolutely no help at all!"

Ron scoffed. "Harry obviously never wanted to take _you_ along either."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock. Hermione shot her a tearful glance, before advancing abruptly before Ron.

"Apologize to her! Apologize to her now!"

"Hermione don't."

Hermione glanced at Ginny in surprise, who now had her brows furrowed and her lips pressed together in a tight line. She shook her head, and without another word, she gathered up her book and departed up the stairs. After a minute, the door to her room slammed shut.

Hermione turned to Ron, eyes tearful. "How could you say that to her!"

He gave a slight shrug and lowered his eyes to the floor. "I didn't _mean_ it. I'm just upset about Harry."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "But so is Ginny. And so am I." She heaved a long sigh and quietly left the room.

* * *

"_Mr_. Malfoy."

Severus Snape scowled when no answer came. The darkness pressed around him ominously, with merely the bright light from his wand revealing the cold metal bars of the dungeon. Surreal black shadows fell over the still, hunched form. A former student.

"_Draco_," Snape snarled warningly.

There was silence again, but only for a moment this time. An angry, threatening voice eventually cut through the air. "_Leave_ me alone."

The derision behind the words came stingingly, and Snape narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "Be wary of your tone Mr. Malfoy. Had I been less inclined, your current situation, as horrible and bleak as it may seem, would have been much worse. _And could be much worse_."

The hunched figure remained silent.

Snape hissed quietly through his teeth. "I did my best to help your family, Mr. Malfoy, but unfortunately the Dark Lord had other plans." Slowly, Snape turned his wand away, using the light to reveal the dark corridor ahead of him. "You would do well to learn from these consequences, Draco. Perhaps you will finally begin to understand the importance of sacrifice."

When no reply came Snape glowered and stalked away irritably, pausing only briefly at the end of the corridor to call over his shoulder.

"Do not expect me to waste my time in your presence again, Mr. Malfoy. I simply thought it best to inform you that during the attack on your father's estate last night, your mother was no where to be found." He paused before adding scathingly, "perhaps Lucius isn't the one to blame for your inherited cowardice after all, seeing as your mother has fled. But believe me, the other Death Eaters will find her sooner or later and I assure you, I am not going to stop them."

The hunched figure stood up immediately, heart pounding in his ears. He flung himself in desperation at the bars of his cell. "Leave her alone!" He called hoarsely. "Tell them to leave her alone! Snape! SNAPE!"

But the doors of the dungeon had already closed.


End file.
